


the best you can do is forgive

by ZucchiniBread



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers: Endgame Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Far from home speculation, Gen, Happy: you're all alone in this, Hurt No Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Going Through It, Peter is Trying, Peter is traumatized, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), me: bet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 12:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18691390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZucchiniBread/pseuds/ZucchiniBread
Summary: Mysterio looked at him, with those soft eyes like -He waved his hand. The old worn stone beneath Peter’s feet turned to red dust, and he threw himself backwards.“Mr. Stark,” Peter said.The man stood where Mysterio had been. In half armour, the same cut on his forehead like it was on Titan. On the battlefield. At the end of it all.





	the best you can do is forgive

The Venetian canals were sloshing back and forth, over the sidewalks and into the shops, knocking locals and tourists off their feet. 

Soaked through (his phone was  _ definitely  _ dead), Peter clung to the roof. The water monster? Swamp creature? Whatever it was, it was a problem. It moved faster than it should, sent waves violet enough to topple stone.

He wasn’t suited up. That was a problem. He couldn’t web it up, not without outing himself. Which  if he needed to, he would. Whatever it took.

He didn’t even have his webshooters. Even if he did, he thought, clinging to the building and thinking desperately what he could do, would they even work on a water monster? Would they just go right through it?

_ Fuck.  _ He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do.

He couldn’t just run up to a monster made of water and start beating it up in a desperate hope that would subdue it. 

This was supposed to be a stupid, super-hero-free summer vacation. 

His therapist had recommended it, he thought it was a good idea, so did May, so did Happy, even. So he went. And now, instead of taking a boat tour around Venice and trying to order coffee in broken Italian through Google translate, he was clinging to a roof and watching a  _ water monster  _ wreak havoc, and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

He’d felt useless so many times since T-

It wasn’t supposed to follow him here. 

He was clinging to the roof, still, trying to debate whether he could run to the hotel real quick and grab his suit that May sent with him (which was a whole can of worms that he wasn’t even ready to deal with yet) or if he should just run into the fray and start punching, when the monster screamed. It  _ screamed _ , terribly human, and he pulled himself up higher, trying to see. The monster was being eaten up by something green, something opaque. The monster launched another wave, and Peter watched it cascade over a stone bridge, and leave a man in armour and a fishbowl on his head in its wake. 

Briefly, absurdly, he laughed at the fishbowl man fighting the water monster, before the man turned to the monster and stuck his hands out. The gas shot out, like mace, and the monster nearly dissolved under it. It moved back, let itself fall apart, and Peter watched as it moved under the water, the canals swelling wherever it went until it went far enough that he could no longer see it. 

Then, a sharp prick at the back of his neck. Peter turned, and saw fishbowl-head looking right at him. He retracted the mask, and Peter was staring fishbowl-head in the eyes. 

He was scruffy. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his beard was uneven and overgrown. His eyes were soft, though.

He gave a nod to Peter, before throwing himself over the side of the bridge. Peter jumped down, looking over the side of the bridge, and the man, like the monster, was gone in the water.

* * *

A rock monster showed up in London later that week. Nick Fury had showed up a day before that, and two hours after he’d drugged Ned and accosted Peter, it was all over Twitter that Spider-Man was in Europe in a sleek new costume after no sightings in Queens for two weeks. 

If Peter came out of this with no one from school putting the pieces together, he’d have to rethink exactly how elite his school was. Sure, they could all make robots and had their grad schools lined up, but God, he was being painfully obvious and he was just waiting for someone to call him out on it. 

The rock monster. Right.

At least he could web this one up.

Fishbowl head showed up again. For an impromptu team, they did well together. He introduced himself to Peter, after the battle, charming, perfectly polite.  _ Mysterio _ . He looked at Spider-Man like he knew exactly who he was.

It gave Peter the heebie-jeebies. Not the creeps, not the nerves, not The AnxietyTM but exactly the heebie-jeebies, and when he told Ned this, Ned told him he should team up with him again and see if he could get any information on the guy. He clearly wasn’t looking to keep his identity a secret, but Mysterio was evidently new, because there was nothing about him on the internet. He was in a photo from the battle in London that night, but the caption was all about Spider-Man, and Peter wondered briefly when he had become the popular figure.

_ Sometime around aliens in Central Park and a stupid donut ship above New York. _

Peter shook his head and tried to fall asleep. 

Nick Fury was blowing up his phone.

Two -or seven? - years ago, he would’ve freaked out over it. 

He was tired, deep into his bones, and he didn’t think twice about putting his phone in  _ Do Not Disturb _ . 

* * *

It wasn’t two days before the fire monster showed up, and Ned would not stop with the  _ Avatar  _ references which, yeah, they were funny, but Peter was sick of fire. He’d been sick of fire for two-or-seven years. 

And how do you even fight a monster made of fire? The webs did nothing, they melted, and Peter was getting his ass handed to him like he hadn’t since Th- stupid purple dude had thrown him around like a football, and that memory wasn’t really doing anything for his focus in the fight. 

Mysterio, Peter admits, saved his life. Because he would never have admitted he was out of his league, and fought until it was over, and he wouldn’t have won, he knew, but Mysterio took it down with the gas and the fake water that freaked the monster out but it wasn’t even real? And when it was gone, the man pulled the fishbowl back again.

“You were good with the rock monster. But this isn’t your fight, kid,” he said gently.

Peter flinched at the nickname, but the mask didn’t show it. “I can’t just ignore it. It’s like they’re following me.”

Mysterio nodded. “They are. I can take care of them.”

Peter looked up sharply. “They are following me?” 

Mysterio nodded. “Fury’s not the only one who knows Spider-Man is abroad. I’ve fought them before. I knew they were sent to get rid of you. I can help, Peter, but you have to trust me.”

He went cold. 

Mysterio tried to placate him. “It’s not like when Stark was with you. Whenever Fury knows something, it travels through the grapevine pretty fast.”

Peter snorted through the twinge that name invoked. 

“I thought his deal was all top secret.”

Mysterio smirked, though it wasn’t cruel. “Mostly, it is.”

Peter grew quiet. “Why do you keep taking off your mask?”

Mysterio smiled in earnest then. Wordlessly, he waved a hand, and his face was… his… it wasn’t. It looked almost like motion blur, but not, it’s more slow and blurry, but not obviously so. It’s confusing, and Peter’s eyesight, sharp as it is, doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Whoa,” he said. Laughing a little incredulously, he asked, “Is that what everyone sees when you take off your mask?”

“If I want them to,” Mysterio replied. He waved his hand again, and he was gone, the English channel in his wake. Peter waited for a moment, and the air shimmered, and the man reappeared. 

“That’s amazing,” Peter said earnestly. 

“Thank you.”

“Why are you fighting these… the monsters, that’re meant for me?” Peter worried for a moment, after Mysterio didn’t respond, that his question was rude, but Mysterio replied thoughtfully. 

“The elementals been my enemies before. It’s not fair that I make someone else deal with them.” 

Peter nodded, noting the name. Ned was right, then, its the four elements. 

Mysterio looked at him with an unreadable expression. “They said you talked more than this.”

“Yeah, well, I usually have time to prepare my witty remarks. Practice them in the bathroom mirror before I leave. This whole,” he flapped his hand aimlessly at the place the fire monster had been, “thing is not really what I expected when I came to Europe. I thought there’d be more museums and churches than elemental monsters.”

Mysterio stuck his hand out. “Well Peter, I think you and I can make that happen. But for the time being, you can call me Quentin.”

Peter didn’t hesitate before shaking the man’s hand. “Quentin. Good to officially meet you.”

“Likewise.”

* * *

Peter was in over his head. He couldn’t shake the image of his classmates running from the monsters, the building crumbling,  _ God they always crumble, why don’t we build these better? _

Ned. MJ. Betty, Flash. They were all close despite what they pretended, even Flash who pretended he was too good for everyone else, because they had all missed so much and the world and all their friends had grown up without them. 

And they were in danger and Peter couldn’t do shit, and Mysterio was nowhere at all, and the stupid fire monster and the stupid rock monster had ganged up on him and the other two were bringing down buildings and bridges, and he was so so sick of this fight and it had only been like twenty minutes. He’d tried webbing up the rock monster and then tipping it into the fire monster but they were both so nebulous and shapeless, anything he did they could circumvent. At the fifteen minute mark he was just focusing on bringing them as far away from civilians as possible. Rock monster hit him so hard he felt his spine pop with the whiplash, and the fire monster was, well, smoking him out and it was working? Which sucked, but they were in an abandoned part of town, and if he could just hold his own, maybe others could get to safety. 

When he couldn’t get up after being smacked into the ground for the millionth time, the monsters melted away for no reason, but Peter was so relieved he didn’t question it, until out of the dust and smoke he saw Mysterio’s fishbowl helmet emerge. 

“Oh. Hey,” he said faintly, still lying on the ground. “Did you get the water and air guys?”

Mysterio didn’t respond. 

Peter shivered involuntarily. Something was wrong.

He struggled to his feet, stumbling. No one was around, so he pulled off his mask. Mysterio was close enough he could see his own reflection in the bowl. He looked like he did after the Vulture, after T-

His eyes were red and bloodshot, ringed in bruises. His suit was scorched and torn. 

“Quentin?”

“You can sit, Peter,” he said, gently.

He could not sit, actually, because if he sat he would die, which his spider-anxiety knew for certain. 

“I’m ok. Did you get the other two?”

Mysterio didn’t say anything.

Peter’s heart started pounding, in that way that didn’t help him focus but made him feel more lightheaded than anything.

Something was wrong. Mysterio pulled the fishbowl back. 

“I can help you, Peter.”

Peter didn’t respond. He had to get out of there, and it was only the fact that Mysterio had never given him reason to distrust him that he didn’t swing out of there immediately. 

“You’re off your rhythm.”

Peter knew, then, that he was concussed, because Mysterio clearly was gearing up for a speech but Peter’s only thought was  _ now I’ve thrown him off his rhythm _ . Which was absolutely absurd to be thinking about, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Mysterio looked at him, with those soft eyes like -

He waved his hand. The old worn stone beneath Peter’s feet turned to red dust, and he threw himself back. 

“Mr. Stark,” he said.

The man stood where Mysterio had been. In half armour, the same cut on his forehead like it was on Titan. On the battlefield. At the end of it all. 

“What the fuck what the fuck-”

Tony looked at him with soft eyes, like when he’d helped the man up on the field, when he’d-

“Hey, kid,” and the voice was right, the inflection was right. Peter looked around, frantically, but it was just him, in the wrong suit, the black stealth suit, not the Iron Spider, but it was Titan in all directions, and it was exactly Mr. Stark, right there-

“You’re not here,” he shook his head. He scrambled back, hands on the ground, and he didn’t remember when he’d fallen back onto the ground.

Tony smirked, perfectly cocky and sarcastically genuine.

“While that oughta be right, this sure beats the three hour meeting I ditched to come save the world again,” he said easily. 

“You’re dead,” Peter said, voice cracking. He stuck a hand out, and looked at it. 

The Iron Spider was back, the black trimmed stealth suit gone. He whipped around, and the crashed half of the donut ship was back, smoldering. In the distance, he could see Dr. Strange, the Time Stone gleaming in the necklace against his chest. 

“Oh what the fuck,” Peter whispered.

“We’re not dead yet but if we don’t figure out Thanos’ next move soon, we’re just sitting ducks. C’mon,” he said, reaching down and grabbing Peter’s bicep. Hauled him to his feet. “Let’s see what the wizard can tell us.” 

Dazed, Peter allowed Tony to haul him up, but when the man tried to pull him towards the ship, Peter dug his heels in. Tony turned a confused look to him.

“No,” he said.

Tony’s brow crinkled, mouth screwing up,  _ I’ve seen that expression before. _  “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t right.”

What was right? It was slipping away faster than he could get it out, but this wasn’t right, because this was Titan, and he’s been here before, and none of this happened, and it was a long time ago, two months or five years ago, whichever because none of it made sense, but Tony tugged on his arm again, and Peter put one foot forward and drew it back when his stomach lurched. 

“Kiddo,” Tony said, less patient.

Peter clenched his eyes.

“This isn’t real,” he whispered. What was real was fleeting in the back of his mind. He grabbed onto what he could. This was old. This didn’t even happen. 

“Let’s go, we gotta get the ship working again,” Tony insisted, pulling on his arm, hard insistent, nearly bruising and the softness in his eyes was gone, and Peter  _ threw  _ himself backwards, wrenching out of Mr. Stark’s grip, stronger than it should be. He stumbled, and clenched his eyes shut. 

“This isn’t real,” he said, louder.

“Peter.”

“This isn’t real.”

“Pete?”

“This isn’t real!” he yelled. 

The air was cool on his back, and Mr. Stark didn’t respond. There was only the sound of wind and ragged breathing, and Peter opened his eyes to old stone and Mysterio frazzled and sweaty and breathing hard. 

There was a beat of silence.

“What did you do?” Peter asked, voice small.

“Peter… Peter you’re struggling. You’re grieving.”

Quentin’s voice was gentle. Peter put a hand behind him and found open air, and turned to look at the ledge over the docks. The water in the bay still sloshed violently. He’d almost walked off it in his hallucination. 

“Fury is using you. Look at Stark. He got dragged into a mess that wasn’t his.” Peter shook his head.

There was smoke rising behind Quentin, fire tinting the night sky orange.

“He gave years to help others, and they bled him dry. You and I? We can learn from that. Peter, we can make a real difference.”

Mysterio was kneeling, now, but still looming above him. The open space behind him, and the city on fire pressed in on Peter.

“A real difference? What… what wasn’t real about what he did?”

Mysterio sighed. “Peter-”

“No,” Peter said, shaking his head.

“Spider-Man,” Mysterio said more forcefully. “I never said he didn’t make a real difference. But Fury is going after you because you’re young, and because he can use you. I can protect you. He has you trying to fight the elementals, but he knows full well you can’t take them alone.”

Mysterio put out his hand.

“Let me help you.”

Peter breathed in as deeply as he could with the smoke in his lungs. He reached up, and let Mysterio pull him to his feet. The man nodded. 

“Right. Let’s get going.”

**Author's Note:**

> i know this is gonna be massively AU once FFH comes out but i had it in my mind and i wanted to write. endgame got me fucked up. if you're writing a fix it or reading a fix it please let me know because they didn't do it right. anyway. here's my garbage. FFH everyone leave peter alone and let him be a tourist in peace challenge. love you guys. i wrote this in one sitting tell me if i messed up really badly. love u guys.


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